****** Hornets

I have been feeling,
Of late ...
that the ****** Hornets have missed us by miles  
And they are sure shot  
Tangle with the most like daggers  
  
Leaving an Unkindness of Ravens  
Furrowed brow  
(If they’d had any)  
Over eyes  
Narrowed in on outlines in chalk  
  
But figments and scatter  
Shadow people  
Who stand and walk away  
Under the cover of bold sun  
  
It might just be okay.. ..  
  
The newspaper green at its memory  
When pages had fluttered from  
Martyr  
To  
Martyr  
  
Worst to worst  
  
Might the best reman?  
  
I feel of late it might have been  
A narrow miss  
An allegorical  
Cause and escape  
  
Whether the cage door pried?  
Weather  
It matters  
  
The Sunshine be bold on backs  
That once crawled and drew a curious flock  
Un shadowing arms
  
That once  held the hands of clocks

My Rocking Chair

It is empty in this chair  
As I sit and lean back into a space
I am destined to fall into  
Arms wide  
A look of shock dropping my chin  
Into a chest you once crossed with your fingertips  
In such a way  
My ******* formed perfect candied peaks  
  
The thought of your mouth there,  
Sets me to rocking  
Oblivion awaits to swoop me up...  
  
Cold hard facts
And points like diamonds
  
The sky once scattered in them  
And they shone in my eyes so
They scorched  
And blinded  
  
“Why do you wear that skirt, those boots, that look .. and inspire such filthy reciprocity”  
He gaslights the diamonds  
My eyes they bleed  
My arms flail through the air
  
Oh it is not easy  
In this rocking chair  
It is not easy
But I rock into a sightless sway  
I think on the day...  
  
And these words from a man who gripped a harness in his hand  
To the extent  
And brutal force
That I can no longer stand the sound of twisting leather
  
He said to me ..  
(and with this look on his face)
He said to me;
“Woman those hips! You woman, those hips.,  . You were born to spread those thighs. I’ll be born again, right there in your thighs!”  
  
And in the night he had done it..  
in no stealthy way  
Or like a panther  
But with force and monster like stare  
My eyes..  
they still burn from his ***** glare

The days clouds creating shattering, shadowing furnaces,  
None of us could stand so close  
To your ceiling an ocean, eyes of a lid in glowing coal  
  
Tempering a fragile strange stare, an old awe,  
Glassware that was passed to us  
When we were young,  
Looking up so frail,  
They rise to their grave,  
Harbour in the sky  
In the bolt of an eye  
  
The godly sins where sunshine ends,  
The things you say with the fury you took in the fall  
Nameless gods put up your road block,  
Play your show and roar  
How could we kneel?  
How could we be smaller?  
When you recognize the fear in our eyes  
With an impulse to split us in two.  
  
Afternoon light is dimmed, heat  
Subdued,  
Clouds  
Lending the  
Whole, a soft  
Cloister, thunderous  
Reverberations  
Grumbling  
In the  
Atmospheric  
Periphery, just  
Strong  
Enough,  
To be felt  
  
It is cool here  
The sky is calling as well  
Pregnant with rain,  
Hovering mass potential  
Wicked winds  
Eminent  
But her currents wear  
Silent mouth  
  
It is still enough  
To just be in it,  
Sticky with its dark  
Sweat clings  
To show its worth  
Closing in  
On permanence  
  
Like time is its currency  
And it might come down  
In silver coin  
That it would be imprinted  
The face of Nero  
And not  
The stamp of God  
  
What God exists  
In silver or  
By face  
By name at all  
Nevertheless  
The rain  
Its burden approaching  
So that we do not fiddle  
Or burn it down  
  
The electric in the sky  
A great battle, this  
Its inner turmoil fights  
Corrupts  
And blankets the sky  
Purple,  
Neon flash of a gate keeper without sword  
  
And perhaps it takes a little madness,  
A delicious drop, a  
Perfect  
Accent ingredient,  
A willingness to  
Bear  
The transformative  
Embrace  
Of naked flame,  
To love forces that  
Threaten with glowering black  
Brow, lowered to an angle  
That can  
Only  
Conclude  
In collision  
And ruin, twisted  
Horns protruding above a  
Neck  
Thick  
With muscle, which promises  
Only  
To ultimately  
Overcome us  
And all we've wrought  
In cold iron,  
Threaded in tightly  
Woven  
Rivets,  
All  
We've erected,  
For our enduring names sake,  
Rent to idle tatters with  
Great  
Chaotic  
Strides,  
Nameless gods, unconcerned  
With our rites  
  
Gods that uproot our long  
Cherished  
Hopes, secretly  
Harbored, too  
Precious  
To be  
Uttered, for fear they'd  
Flash  
And  
Dissipate  
Upon contact  
With the air  
  
Gods with the flippant  
Grin of a street corner  
Illusionist, with a flourish of  
Fluid  
Movement and practiced  
Ease, unmake  
The earth,  
Beneath our feet  
And erase,  
Our hand me down names  
  
This is how it goes  
With myself and the Magician  
And the Observer  
Of natural law  
When things with subtle edge  
Like talk about the weather  
Like a description of three different skies  
Unite in the mind’s eye  
  
The reverb of heart  
Blends into one sight  
A universal speculation  
Of what might come down  
And the parts of it that matter

Nation part 1

He was hound dawged  
Sweated  
Mud in his eye  
But red, similar the color of cherries  
  
His  load  
Delusions of grandeur -carried in a burlap sack  
eclipsed the threshold a Moon before his person  
  
Lumbering  
  
And foul  
  
Grunt and whiskeyed breath  
Enough to make a small one dizzy ...
  
Enough to clear the front of house with only a hint of his mood  
  
The Sioux boiled beneath his grip  
Mud like lava caked his expression  
  
The man had seen War  
But not enough  
  
Not enough  
  
Only a little..
A promise incomplete  
  
His War had been a nursery rhyme
Full of..  
  
Barnyard animals  
****** with anthropomorphism  
Machete held  by pigs paw  
Rebel yells that quacked  
  
And so he entered the threshold  
(Sanctuary actually)  
Hulk and mass inescapable  
And indescribable in regards to appetite  
(Though I will try)  
  
As said ..
The Sioux boiled beneath his grip  
Exposing the ancestry beneath his skin Monks hood  
  
I think ..
Something lovely  
And deadly  
  
And I certainly feel..  
worthwhile

The instrumental blows
Slow saxophone    
Accompanying my mood    
I tip the man with dip and shake    
    
Smoke and it's pillaring      
High and blue    
Like writhing tendrils    
Of the Medusa      
And her memories of when    
She was a beauty queen      
      
A thought occurs    
by tossed delivery    
However heavy my scrupulous resolve    
This kind of heaven is thick    
With indiscretion      
      
So one for my baby    
And one more for the road    
      
My bend of elbow      
Breeches slow slur    
My tongue takes on heaviness    
Ripe without pretense      
Formulation of rationale      
Dissolves    
      
My hands sticky      
With traces of me    
      
And my eye    
covers itself with hanging hood    
My view now comfortably obscured    
I am everything      
And I am nothing    
      
But hold on to this babygirl    
      
I am everything      
When not nothing    
      
The secrets of my skin    
Still feel beyond the numbing      
Goosefleshed and cold with fear    
Of the wide awake in darkness    
      
I am so afraid of the dark    
I have been made to exist    
under this neon light    
    
Somewhere inside it feels    
This heaven is not right    
My bliss is a traitor    
He might hang for these crimes    
    
And my soul    
She hurts    
My bridge is under fire    
The water boils    
    
And still I dip my toes    
    
Beyond the carnage and heat    
Still the sax man blows    
And lulls me    
But how I love this music    
I sink and I listen  
    
Until all around me shoosh  
Shoosh  
And ease into breathe  
Way to close for comfort  
So close to death
  
I raise my glass to my new companion
She stares with eyes
Of truth and beauty
their light I have never seen
nor hoped to
  
And still they shake me to my bones  
  
So much so and that ever after
The darkness has befriended me
And built me a home  
And kept my peace

I had cried out for home    
In the midst of all out wreckage  
An onslaught of bad days  
Bad people    
Bad things to do    
To good people    
To feed a bad habit    
    
There lay my bad seed soul on the filthy carpet    
I had rolled on it    
I had taken a nap on it    
And the polyester fibers    
Had attached themselves to my brain    
The pseudo soft mesh of red *****    
twisted into grey matter    
    
And I cried out for home    
God I believe    
And no words for him    
Aside from that thing    
In my tummy    
Wrenching that I needed him    
    
And to the alleys again    
Once more in the morning after    
I pulled myself up    
Sticky faced    
And mouth curved an OG grin    
With hip walk down lick street    
My lean serious    
My intent Ill    
The illest    
    
Then behind me sirens spin    
‘‘Twas the cop    
From the night before    
Or, the night of    
Whenever    
Or the day I    
And I probably did    
I don’t remember    
    
But he was sure of it    
And my wrists were soon tight with steel    
Key lock    
And pale faced feeling    
Drained to my knees the rest of me    
Slid into seat    
Customary head tuck    
And to county jail    
    
Booked in    
****** up    
Off grin    
I had been too tired    
To argue much that stripes and numbers were not my color    
    
I was going to stay a while    
A little vaca a go go    
Hell no you can’t leave    
But    
At last a place to really sleep    
And eat    
(Insert here any form of gelatinous ooze)    
    
And just to break the serious monotonous    
Time......    
....................(you cannot imagine what whir lies between those kind of) ........ticks....    
    
I found my hustle    
  
For a beautifully    
Artfully    
Passionately rendered Madonna and child I did for a stud broad    
She traded me three e gig filters    
(I shoved up my *******)    
Aughhh...    
“nicotine baby, hadn’t seen you in a while.”    
    
And I considered this    
And I asked why    
She had fortuned my ****** with this wealth    
    
A big woman they called Squirrel    
Who had sported stripes on the daily    
And would be for 15 plus more years    
Said to me    
“Because I need to make these grey walls home.”    
She stuck up the Madonna    
With toothpaste and spit    
And sat down to pray    
    
And here’s the thing    
About God    
And    
About stud broads called Squirrel    
Both have quite the surprising answers    
To questions    
You ask    
Or prayers you did not know you’d cried out    
    
Prayers like    
I want to go home    
  
And big bad women    
With our lady of perpetual hope    
Lightening the dark of their eye    
Show you how to make it

The drip  
And delicacy of my eye
You imagine
It holds pity
You imagine  
It holds your favor  
And that I intuitively reach  
For your nerve
  
Some nerve
  
In all my resolve
A posture built of stone
And the stalwart mortar
Experience  
My wisdom sticky with it
  
Even against the Great Wall  
You helped lay
From cornerstone  
To turret and my stare from it
Even against this  
You blow
  
Silly fragile fragments
You expect  
To crumble tumble down  
  
And long gold locks  
Like the hair
I used to wear
You believe might spill over
Return to your pull
Of grooming  
Tight plaited  
Twisted curving
Insecurity  
  
Inebriated wit
Calculated curiosities  
Woven tightly  
Into my thought process  
When puberty
Hit with urge
  
Remorse
That I had left certain things behind
  
Laughter with you
Inside jokes
And shared knowledge  
A privilege meant
Only for us
  
An isolationist  
In your measure
Your way with me
You had  
But not quite  
proved  
Cold calculating  
Alienation
  
But oh father  
How I’ve sinned against  
The nature of things
  
In my head
To my knees  
With private mournful  
Accusations  
With the need for  
absolution from it
  
But with absolve  
I dissolve
  
So return to my eye
The drip she shines
When let loose
That shine  
She is not pity
And she is not for you
  
To my knees
With other things
  
A world who’s axis  
Is not you
A prayer to a God  
Who’s strangest angels
Do not sing  
In your tonality
  
A hallelujah chorus rise
Over your horn
And its shrill  
Efforts  
My walls
They hold

To see this highway,
And a vision beyond it
Beside it  .. running along like threads that hold the keep  
Dirt roads that come to the middle and end  
A front door open ,
And shut a thousand times and holding its secrets still..    
  
In my rear view ,  
And front.  
A haze of dust collected there  
  
My eyes are wide against rest.  
A yellow line will spin out hours ahead of me before they find comfort and closure against a pillow  
  
.And the moon and stars make work of my imagination.  
Residuals and lasting impressions dust my dreams.
  
Scorched coffee  (pause)
Sugared bites,  
And the road I travelled ,  
  
Well economies.    
  
Not glimpses into the usual, or typical  
Exactly,...  
but glances towards an American Gothic.  
    
Perhaps even the Abraham of the streets
  
(Long thoughtful pause and deep pull of a Redbull)

Would I stoop to consider these,
Remove myself from self titled Shaman of the Netherlands  ...
and dive deeeep into the Delta.

Musky scent of both decay and renewal,
Let it be heady.
Let it fly fast into downed windows through fingertips extended and waving through the wind.

Learn  by feeling and leaving  ...
experience.
But no intent on living there.

Self run (Riot)

I walk
6 feet tall
All of me

(I have been told I lead with my ******, it is unintentionally ****** forward if I do. My head is usually in the clouds. I’m assuming my ***** is too. Once I think about it . .. I’m away to something else. Figuratively and literally. I guess If my ****** leads, I soon follow.)

All of me
5 foot 9
And 6 feet tall

My perfume
Hubris
But at most I’m self aware
At least
I’m oblivious

It wafts around
At 6 feet

High

(I have been told I look like Debbie Harry, I prefer Chrissy Hynde, but Debbie Harry will do. Especially on those one shoe Sunday morning afters. Even then I douse myself  O! DAY! Perfumed. Pride and all of its bilingual manifestations)

At
6 feet tall
I’ll take you to Church
O! Faced

(A man once once winked at me and said; Jennifer I’m going to take you to church. He meant a good ****. Or intended a phenomenal one.. regardless, I took him. I usually do. Jennifer the pew.)

Straight up
No inclination
6 feet tall

Baller

She was the reckoning
In God’s eye  
  
And she came before his moment  
Not unlike
The clamshell breathe  
That exhaled enough  
Of gritty debris  
And salty waste  
To stir warm waters to rise  
  
A momentum growing  
From one minuscule  
Molluskular  
Involuntary reaction  
To his “pain in her mask”  
Pure no count dumb fuckery  
  
A momentum that would rise  
And fall  
To onslaught  
Tidal wave effects  
  
And land  
(An understatement at the very least)  
Onto his his psyche  
(She sees dumb **** beach)  
And leave in tatters  
  
Browned and dimmed  
Once fresh pressed  
Buttoned downed to tanned flattened  
navel  
Supremely white cotton shirt  
And smirking logo stitched on it  
  
And she would grin  
Clamshell wide  
At how his smile once matched the smirk  
Of the perfectly put and odd little logo  
That sat  
(almost mocking her)  
Upon his white shirt  
  
But now due to  
The much needed exhale  
(Involuntary Molluskular removal of little more that bits of would be ****)  
  
Had left him only the expression  
Of purely God Smacked

I decrease in this winter worship of you
Nights of dark wine
Stain my lip
You had left your blood on my tongue
I tasted it
And had thought to drink more
My desire beyond the fruit  
In the iron  
  
A skin like  
Delicacy  
The nature of my ways
Taken and broken  
The ****** burst  
Dripped to white sheets  
And was counted
  
I would like to feel like white again
Would dwell in that cerebral cloud
For an eternity  
Would walk  
Bare foot placed with serene forward  
Calm  
The grace of youth  
The mercy of not having to  
  
Remember  
Need  
Want  
Know
  
Have any doubt  
About what one touch  
One taste of you again passing  
My connoisseurs lip
Might do to me
  
The Earth collided and cooled  
In the time it took for you to leave me
  
Minutiae  
Details like hot stones
Linger  
When held in my hand  
Warm calm and its effects
  
But the calx
Of anything worthwhile  
Still dries red  
And owns little residual value
By any apothecaries standards  
Worth his salt  
  
You flake away
Fly into the wind
The scatterings a mess
And leaves only a spirits agent  
To show prophetic map
To nowhere sacred
  
Well hidden under etched statuary  
Of dark wings
And angelic gaze veiled and obscured
Rounded mound holds the body of my faith  
  
But the most of me still exists  
Outside of this  
And roams the red droplets  
Eluding to destination  
A map charted on cotton  
So long ago
And far away
That my memory has become a maze
  
A prized labyrinth  
Of memoria
And nocturnal emissions  
  
I so often wake from my dreams  
spent
  
But my virtue does not lay
Within my dreams
She lies at the feet
Of where you once stood
And spread your arms to shadow me

Your arms hover no longer
Your swing does not fly shade
Like swift ghosts
Across my face
While iron lingers on my tongue

I begin to shake with capability
The woman of me slinks back into my soul
And kisses the forehead of my girlhood

Silent Bell

I cannot feel here at all
No touch in this space
No sight sound
Or ability to taste remorse
...
When the roaring stops
Done God deafening
And the sine qua non silence
The after the moment
Moment
Of a crushing vacuum of pause
Pre denouement
The infinity felt in the silence
There
...
before fate arrives sure footed
Black boot stomp
And fortunes imprint
...
So deep this track
How many have laid it
...
And here is mine
It shows my drag and limp
Curving artfully in the mud
To be shown and traced by hands of the living curious being
That would care to escape palmistry
Cut out the hustler
the convict
the grifter
...
As they stoop to find the lines and ways
That history arch’s and would bend their bright future
...
It would be a tragedy
They think
Finger curled to unsmiling face
To flatly increase a pensive face
...
And so the hum and swoop
Of approaching infamy
This heady swirl
And no sound to its definitely draining source
And no horn to sound an end
No violent or shocking alarm
To herald what will happen
And stick
...
To yellowed pages filled with flowery stroke
Script that burns my name into useful algorithm
Or other words
More apropos

Silhouette

You breathe through the air. Its jacket fits snugly. Its jacket is pale grey blue, and gripping.

It feels, a Forrest surrounds you. The blackening etch of your nature against cold tile like elephant ivory.

The ink seeps into the spread of age. It is blue dark. The picture blurs.

The only sound has been captured within the trumpet. The brass bulges, and begins to fracture.

What escapes; weeping. A low moan and the gurgle of a man drowning. Slowly.
His toes pointed downwards.

To the bottom like a dart. The silhouette of a body freeing itself of the hangman’s noosed.

Until it fins itself violently to the left, an eruptive detour created with the force of a whales tale. If only its lungs to breathe.

And free yourself of this jacket. Of its sterile color and similar embrace.

Un careful placed tongues    
Slipping knot poetry    
To be sure      
To swing      
And unable to hit      
      
Like a falling dream      
A dream where you fall    
Brace for it..    
But you wake in the middle      
The bottom      
It stays in the distance    
      
No bottom of it      
Of words      
Sliding out from under you      
Slipping from desperate grasp      
      
White knuckles curl the syllables      
The meaning of them      
Clenched in its palm      
Full of the map      
The born in tree      
      
Knowledge      
Intuitive like      
      
But wrapped tightly      
By the struggle      
By pride      
By counterintuitive impulse      
The likes of it      
Unholy      
      
(To most)    
    
Few would condone it      
Many would do it      
      
I often feel like saying it      
Often it enters my body like blasphemy      
      
And it rock shocks      
Grabs warm places      
Digs and I buck    
And then    
And then...  
      
I want to ****      
Like a kicking mule      
And a gone bad woman      
      
On the edge      
Sitting pink on the verge      
Of clamped tight      
Spasm      
And its lie awake at night      
........ rocket      
      
Rocket      
      
Rocket....  
  
Phew...  
      
I breathe heavy      
Like a time lapse photo      
Of an obscure      
Underwater creature      
Whose movements ****      
In reds      
And shocking      
Bright      
Neon blue      
      
Pulse    ....
..... ..  
      
And ads plenty      
To dark depths      
Of uncharted territories      
The Mariana Trench      
And ungodly bottomless holes      
Found right smack      
In the middle      
Of a desert      
      
Right smack in the middle      
Like a      
........rocket      
      
Shoot...

Slow

Dance to graves ..
to Rogers and Waters
And Dens of Uniquity

To moments a capsule
Instantaneous
The spread

Poison or living
It does not matter...
but into the marrow
It’s seeping

Into the marrow
Through concubine flesh

Through
Flesh and bones ..
To marrow

A harrowing beat..
by Rogers and Waters
The lamp light still comes pleading

To garnish the cheeks of thin women wearing musk
Men in hats and dark ..

Dance to graves..
rivers among men

Dance to graves at once.

When I am thrown back to
Shades of dying
Through walking breathe Universe
In search of resurrection
To lighten the tongue softly
With Star talk
Offering scores of Gods
The ability
To shine their ego
In a constant crown
Of constellation
With extravagant names
Of ancient Kings
Fierce hunters brandishing weapons pulled and ready to pierce
And women with the intuitive smoke
Of oracles

When I am in this space
Of mist and vague illusion
And the ambient effects
Of wine
Or others that might bend my sky enough
To see beyond it
And into others

I come before a Father
God with sheepish grin
And barely covered
His arm outstretched
And finger pointed before it
To pinpoints, brightnesses
Scattered carefully
And covering the great map of the infinite

And I would wander through
The rest of my days
Thinking on his smile
And wondering why it would look that way

I have tired eyes  
For behind me sleeps the dying  
They would punish me  
If I’d let them
They are capable
And the withering of their bodies
The curling in their fingers
Are mine
  
Fringed hoods droop
Obscuring the future  

Wide  
It is vast and blank  
Not empty  
But alive in its gesso white  
Brilliant and blinking  
  
Blue highways  
Turned canvas to take me  
And be  
Just be  
Breathe ....  
What I exhale meets the next moment  
  
As cars scream by  
They go so fast  
And  
It has been my suffering  
Strapped to the backseat  
I see my reflection in the rear view  
I am reluctantly drawn to catch my eye  
Her hold  
Pulls me back  
Tightens the buckle  
  
The lane continued without me  
Before  
Would do it again  
I am not willing  
  
The brush dots the median
It is my stroke  
  
The next town  
And it’s roadside attraction  
In cages  
For a minutes wild regard  
Of pedestrian exotica  
Nature timid and tamed  
Turn tailed to the tide  
Of oppression  
Seething counter intuitive  
Self destruction  
He paces complacency  
And laps his pride  
Like milk  
  
What opportunity  
Ability lost  
And the man  
With rotting teeth  
Bent core  
Holds the whip  
His sneer bends its tail  
Striped yellow with black  
And camouflages great promise  
  
I will pass it by  
With heartache  
And simply refuse my curiosity  
To indulge it  
Would be my key in the lock  
  
I can only pray  
That the caged finds in him  
Power and revolt  
Enough to rock itself  
And bust the barn wood  
Twisted steel through the dusty old  
Porch of his keeper  
The man in filthy bibs  
Holding a leather whip  
And spitting terror  
And unholy demise  
Of what would be wild  
  
It is enough today that it is not me  
Tired eyes  
Staring out of bars  
And shameful need  
Shaking hands reaching through  
Clutching at things  
That are not mine  
  
Tomorrow I will wake again  
And be down this road further  
I hope to find my feet dusty  
Dirt roads can seem endless  
Mine sure as hell did  
But I would enjoy  
A long stretch ahead of me  
And in it’s scenic bends  
Sights of things  
That I love  
And familiar faces  
Grinning a willingness to be there

It sat just beyond incineration
Swearing nonchalance with the great ease of a sociopath
It's jacket promising a "Good time at Larry's, bring a friend!"
Itself, lay alone and charred
If anyone had paid it any attention
One might have caught the sulfuric hint
of a mighty hell that had consumed whole
First Oxygen
And then home
And then for granted future
Of the hateful demon who had tossed the thing
And the red headed woman who had once laid beside him

In forested moonlight        
Scattered pale blues            
And caught the flank of a midnight            
Black            
            
And there was gripped            
For a brutal moment            
The wild of the beast            
Then shot fear and thundering pound       into the Earth            
Where it was absorbed and held            
For a Mothers arms are always willing      
        
It was heard in the beasts hit of hooves   And in its eyes like a drowning pool            
the question Why            
            
But no answer was given            
Though she lamented            
Its Mother only shook her head            
soft smile passing from knowing  
mouth    
In utter juxtapose from feelings felt            
            
The beast slowed its pace            
As confusion touched apathy            
It harbored its clip            
Its shoulders shrugging            
Dawning its harness as the sun rose ready            
            
And daylight saw Man's dominion            
It rose and gave over to a gentler master
the fate of the wild
in Woman's hands            
And though quite capable            
she was sadly so            
In all her certainty            
She was very sad to watch the wild go

At times I’m purely shocked by the living
And then
Beats
And I believe life
Might be
A world within
A sociopaths dreamscape
If and when they dream

If and when their ground exists beyond
The next footfall
Steps fall
They thud their ******* boots
And pound my paranoia

My march of heart
But do I feel
Deeply
At all
Too much?

It could all be this
And ....

Then again
My sugar might be low
Or
I should eat a banana
(As a powdered jelly filled corrupts my face)

Oh yes,
Much better
The next human that passes
And meets my eye
I will see the undead there
And his heart
On blue sleeve

(I just said heart on, and wonder if they exist either)

Not for the faint I whisper to the dead

(I see dumb people)
Why are they still speaking?
Like a talking head
I say something once
Why say it again

The alive
Seem so sheltered by the status quo
(Suffocated?)
Umbrella’d

The next storm
The big wind that blows
Even if all around me neon blue
Light and crack
(Gripping crack)

Even if all around me this...
I am determined to have mine blown
Upright
And melt into it

Just tip my chin skywards
And melt before I drown in it
(And peel my banana, for I’m sure to survive it.)

In the limelight of once covenant
Feel and touch
Drops cling to the curling of my rose
(She darkens there, in the light of you)
I recoil in the gloaming
The shine shimmies
And bursts

To the floor
Of scattered leaves
And dried red petals
The moisture will not plumpen them
Or shout any good fragrance onto the breeze

You gaslight my blue abrasions
Creating phantasm on my skin
A silhouette of features I know well
Mouth and hummmm
Low vibratory calling
A song that sings
Eons into my existence

But I await
In crouch and ready pose
(My curl has not devastated my posture she may unbend herself)
To spring forth
Out of these blue black strikes
You have laid on my courage

My keeper has become
A tree that bears fruit
I will pluck from it
And willingly be put out

My flowering held in hand
Full bodied in the wildest
Temptation met with choice
And it darkens only the red of my lip

What is left *****
Myself
For your perversions grow only
When pressed inside my shadowy illusion
(So keep it to stroke some lonely afternoon)

My eye will grow to no longer notice
Any contusion
I shed my skin and walk out of apparition

Grace and beauty shown only
In a strong light
To those who might keep their shadows for themselves

And it came down like madness
The water over her naked self
Spilling over budding dreads of *****
Neglect
Where it pooled in oil and the dust of long hellish roads
This sacrament refused to mix readily or give easy absolution
For the residuals of long journeyed sins
Hard living had taken its toll
And close to completely
What was left of her mind, muddy
"Of cloudless climbs and starry skies"
She had once known all the words
By heart and mirrored affinity
But sometime in that great distance
Of then to now
It had all become very, very
Ugly
So now, there stood
A shivering and hunched Liesel Priest
Wearing nothing but goosefleshed compromise
In durressed state of highly undressed
Urges, the natural kind
Of flight or flight, quite respectable and by right
Well all those fine urges, they flung like daggers
Until, almighty at last
Her head rocked back and sunk into wet soapy shoulders
Her jaw slacked slightly open
And she let the ministering of scalding water pass her lips
Until she rocked compliance
And uttered "forgive me father, how I've sinned."

The Charmers of Hupomeno

Mankind and his ambition  
Might have thought  
To take slowly from the pile
  
But he seems to heave and throw
Eager to watch it burn
Eyeing the cinder
The ember his eye
Puff and pride swelling his chest
  
What destruction  
And brought tempest
The storm placed  
  
And mankind grins  
Believing it echoed a rain dance
Barking snake oil  
To crowds huddled  
Shaking hands  
To chuck the bottle
  
They lick their lips of its placebo
And stoke the fire  
With sticks of ivory
***** charcoal  
And remnants of nature  
And its source
  
The tapping of singed fingers
Plays a tune  
To impromptu a soft shoe  
Buffaloes time step
And the cake walk shows white teeth
Bared and dinged
And shuf shuf shuffles off
  
Mankind and his cane
To beat the rock  
With the bones of holy ancestry
They drink  
But cannot further the tribe  
Dancing does nothing for distance
Endurance withers  
In the heat furnaced and fueled  
  
Mankind procreated
Whip in hand and behind her like a dog
He has raised a son
And named him Meribah
The Great Entertainer
Watch him twirl the torches
Gasp as they burn
  
The soul at siege  
Will rush the plank  
Will caress the sky from falling
Will scald his flesh  
To prevent the stage on fire
But dismantle it piece by piece
And find a fortress in his stronghold
  
The temple of man
Made of skin
And three rings announce a master of ceremonies  
He is loathe to crack the lions
But had intended them lambs

She is in the dark.

But in his eyes.....

Blood around her head like a halo.
Eyes, cold marble
Blue and blurry
Streaked
They roll

Turned away from him
His chivalry,
A long thin hand
Outstretched
And shaking

He has had no drink for hours
The days unwind collectively
In his stoop
In his demeanor
In his recollection

She.

Once long haired
And laughter like wings
Then he ..

And moth turned to flame
Charcoaling the tips
Curling future and promise
Red lipped youth
Paling to ashen
Grey

In your mind
And in your breath
Find me  
I beg of your impenetrable walls  
To crumble and come  
Down  
  
My God....
down and all around me..  
    
I'd love to hear you  
lying and next to me  
    
Make me a believer    
    
I might believe    
    
Pant my name right out loud  
In singular high  
And sweetness    
It might ease your tongue    
And stroke into it  
    
I know that I would....  
    
I wish that i could  
    
I would for you  
    
I would find that place in me  
Where my name    
On your tongue could reach  
Death's bed beaches  
And propel them to the shore  
Slamming waves  
Eroding rocks
and ungodly placement  
    
And over...  
Over, over  
    
Over.  
    
But a lifetime more than  
geology between us  
More than an ocean could stand  
without parting  
Much more than I had thought to  
place willingly    
    
Even still    
My longing turns readily    
And responds wildly    
To even the thought of it  
    
Asking more of the archer in me    
Than my pull can possibly bring  
I feel the need to draw the bow    
Intensely    
    
But Christ the intensity  
    
It is...  
Intense  
    
Too much    
Too far  
To pull that mark  
And unable to hit?    
    
Once more...  
    
I withdraw

His eyes black as night hooks
His eyes black as solemn nickels
And to be spent
Perversely

On treats
Poked and prodded
Prayed from the gripping hands
Pried by means
Rough like shoddy tendrils
Of the beggar
Or the mercenary
Of the wino turned soldier
Of dubious fog and haze

He seeks non-combatant
Non-committal
Well turned flesh

White mooned orbs
And a gaze like death
Corseted to her cheeks
A rosened hue
Of chalk and fear

And brings a suddenness
Intended to escape memory

It seems the foreboding nature
Of this sidewalk itself
Causes her stoop
That mimics a sway
That shakes her hips
Like battleships

And in his mind
It has become a war
It is his call
His strike
And beyond his command

It’s as if these hills hold a second sight  
The sycamores when still and silent  
Ghostly white and they weep for the empty rookery  

The heron
Just as pale and blue  
Stand an apparition on the banks  
Lonely for the colony and its need  
He is smoke to my water  
The current moves me through his gaze  
Holds me there through the bend  
And then I drift beyond it  
  
He remains  
like my history  
And its fog of memory  
To keep the edge  
To eye the flow  
Dig capable whistled leg  
Into pale hues of fossils  
And time placed compression  
Impressions of my used to be  
  
The prowlers with yellow eyes  
Curve and sweep  
The startling screech  
Cries fear  
Into the calm of all this  
Beauty  
But often eerie  
And foreshadowing quiet  
Brushy tails shiver my good sense  
  
I will go to the river  
And strip down to nothing  
But the peach of me  
And the wonder in my regard  
Of all of this  
And its spiritual entry into my being  
Dive in and feel my soul float  
Out of the cool caress of my skin  
  
The night and its moon  
Will color me an *******  
But pale mood  
To suit the atmosphere  
And its esoteric tastes  
I will be a mystic here  
And chant my name to the stars

The Lake

I stand before her
She is bold and blue
And cracks
With boning pressure and the shock of release

To bobbing sternum sheath
As if the chest
Of this now breathing frozen lake
Intubated by the will
And warm might of the sun

It’s rays like pumping hands
She moans
And underneath the sloshing of Iced veins
As they push through

Newborn

A magic shot
Shudders through
And shouts entrapment

Corrupting the silent calm
Sentinel of the wild

They stand watching
And fear her resurrection

She holds in pale blue
Electric palm
The capacity
And surreal intent
To tread through stability
And destroy the taproot
Of all that is known

“The ancient map”
And take down their King
With cool
Uncaring flinch

She breathes
And her chest
Rises
And falls
Great calamity
A cold terror

Blows through the sleeves of strong men
Spreads frostbite through the tips of fingers

Of able hands
Crippled by her might

And crestfallen
They disembark
On readied boats
On the opened currents
She has shown

See the lizard with the walking stick
An absurd rhythm  
It applies to a scurried gate
For fashion it would suit him
Only if he were made
A hat band  
For my houndstooth fedora
  
The green flash
And blue feather
Would bring out my eye
  
I eye him  
With a curiosity
And enough desire now
To make his skinny neck gulp
  
A new bejiggity  
Gitter up and go
Now see him drop the stick
He fast approaches frantic
And also drops his tail
  
The fine neon stripe  
Of tail had done him much less damage  
Than the stick
Both attempts at vanity
Utter failures in the end
  
I pick them up both
Twirling one on my left finger
One on my right
See the stick
She matches my fine shoes
See the neon flash of tail
Now curling from my pocket?  
  
Don’t his tail make the perfect  
Company for the green in my eye?

Temperate sympathies
That do not cross
On mild  
well wishing winds
  
My mind ...
Thoughts drape
Like a sky  
Crossed by indifference  
Slow cumulonimbus drifting  
  
Obscure references  
That part
You and me
  
You see...
What matters to me now
Is not what mattered to me then  
  
Like the owl
Who shattered his beak
Trying
Then with slow turning of his head...
Spies his meal
And cannot eat
  
To seek
Broken and in need  
To find what might nourish you
Its appeal rolling small and helpless  
In the grass
Or underneath layers
Of dead wood and compost
  
Heaped over a trembling effort  
To hide and stay lost  
From piercing capture
  
To watch that vulnerable discomfort
Out of the gaze  
Of an eye ready with capable force
And wicked ability to take it...
And,
Transform loss through its digestion
Into
Energy
  
To just look  
Chest heaving with power  
Over it?  
  
To sit on wooden ledge  
With any comfort?
  
Surely I would turn my stare  
round towards some other  
ease for my yearnings  
A penchant for what stirs me
set softly to the side
  
So I am implying  
Your sympathies are false
To your nature
And my security
  
Here in this underbrush
And shaky home

He wears an open mind
Like barbed wire
Thoughts pricked
Circling
A championship stance ready
Out waiting the gait  
To un click and spring open
Hurled and pounced
Flat and broken  
Mind bugging slaughter house failure
**** boy twisted  
And gangsta leaned
New swaggering fueled
Ill intent  
Trades mind set
For black heart  
Clank
Downed iron walls  
Downed time  
And street apprenticeship  
All bared bones  
And ivory closure
All turkey and no jive
Calls himself sweet feet  
In the canteen line
Mood fine seemingly  
But in the letter
An I miss you baby
Hold me down he begs
The phone line is long
But hear me calling
I never did  
She fails to see
The barbed wire  
Had sealed his fate
Thorny sting  
And a Mother gone
To too much  
His life had been never enough
But excess  
Of pseudo freedom
Piles of postcards  
And unused stamps  
Delivered
No where special
Days and days of trailer park revival  
And pressing a bunk
calamity’s currency  
Provides peanuts for clamshells  
Steamy art
And shadowed textures
The tattoo gun sting
Provides your name  
On his ***
And whipped into fury  
By slow trickled tepid shower
Regret slowly smirks his frown
His assault on liberty  
Bloodies his fist
Full contact sport
With solid walls  
Exhausted by the effort  
No strike will un loose them
He has lost so much
To permanent hold

He had in his hand ..
A violin
A violin
In his long hand
In his long hand
Trembling

The dress she wore
Nonexistent
It fell away like dust
And exposed a body
Of only skin
Of only skin
And her hips the lines
of a cello
of a cello
played
In the rain
Wet and deep
And cavernous

He held in his hand
A violin
And she

And she
And she... ... ... ..

In the rain

Deep and cavernous
And wet

And he
And he .., ..

Trembling

Burning through
Archaic sentiment
.....But burning
And an appreciation
An appropriate passion
For what is not gold
But the tint of Calx
rusted root
Or the rust of a tin can
Planted in soil
For generations
And the dangerous space
That leads the Copperhead
Ahead of Chevron tiled slither
A scent of foreboding fortune mixed with feces and intent
But comes to some
The smell of cucumbers
To some plain foul
As flared and frightened nostrils
Take it in
And exhale no art
Poetry
Music
Stroke
Of mimic
The raw colors of the world
The value of salt
As it adds to the human condition
Or reflects
Truly the grimy
And honest
Often *******
Often Jesus Christ
Cornerstone, of humanity
The weary and brutal
Sidewalks
Filled with ******* seekers
Rattling keychains
That hang from pockets
Spilling Velcro unicorns
In colorful plastic

Burning through ..
and these things around me
Spill
A pilgrimage of sorts
To the Buk
And his awareness :
....Need to find art ...
To seek it in the ally’s
Or the eye of the convict
Where some might see
Only concrete and grey

I have stroked my way
through great lengths
And currents    
Of uncertainty    
    
Come ripple    
Come shoot  
And it seems    
In this moment    
I did not miss  
    
It's pull  
Through doubt  
Through once devastating    
Remorse  
That had grabbed my ankles  
To tug me under  
    
To see my face    
In airless whisper  
Bubbles of scream    
I could not muster    
Rise  
And rise slowly    
And swallow into it  
    
Hollow panic    
I could not choke    
But only beg for wind  
Until I surfaced    
To the welcoming sun    
And beloved movement  
    
To float into    
Destination    
Would have been lovely  
To ride Christ like    
Down blue waters    
Seems choice    
However unattainable    
    
I can only imagine  
Caressing the ease and cool    
With fingers that did not curl    
With desperation  
    
But that was not my case  
Was not my stream    
Was not my river    
    
I imagine Congo bends  
And U shaped turns    
Of ambiguity and great confusion  
Or the dense and uncharted    
Regions of the Amazon    
And like minded    
Extreme    
Highly unpredictable    
Pourings  
    
And in them I would recognise    
My journey  
And feel kinship    
And great pride    
In spite of the struggle  
And uneven pace of my dig  
    
For every stroke has taken me    
to where I am  
And away from where I've been
  
I let the residuals  
Drip down my thigh
I finger them from my hair
And am reminded  
Of the hard motion  
And deep waters that cling
  
I sigh and watch them  
fall from my skin
And direct my gaze
And satisfaction  
Up and towards the sky

The Stone

I hold it
Hot hot
In my hand
My eyes shoot
In Axis Mundi
Ever opposite
It’s grounding source
However similar
It’s everlong
Time imprinted
Held snug
My eyes
To the stars
Like this diamond
Chrysalis
Of Chrystaline
Hot hot
In my hand
My eyes shoot
Im Axis Mundi
Beyond the heat
Axis of Petdition
.............,,,,,.

My face in histrionics  
Then bourboned to  
Applesauce  
A soft veiling  
Of *******  
And an insufficient reach
To grip the railing  
A catastrophic climb  
To my depths  
And I pour.....  
  
Another night  
Laced by stars
And swat team tactics  
He had gaslighted my dimensions  
I was scattered  
And covered the ground
Little shiny pebbles  
Poking bare feet ...  
  
That night I tossed and turned  
Under the covers of my smile  
My eyes sunk  
Closed and creases
Nostalgia played the drive in  
And a small girl sat on the bench
At the park across the way
Watching the others swing...  
  
It has been four years since then,  
And I ...  
  
Feel very strongly about that day  
That had fed itself into the night  
In such a primitive  
Primal manner ...  
that I had sworn I might lose my fist in its bite
  
I should still avert my gaze  
From morbid reflection  
And not dwell
(Stand)  
The pebbles so sharp beneath my toes

in the far east of the sands
of the great Mojave
with upright    
cheerful cactus  
and the Joshua tree    
for company  
    
(and oh my how they had dug in and held, no small feat in this climate)  
    
An old marker read  
    
here lies Uncle  
Uncle was my horse  
it took two days in the hot sun  
to bury him    
but he was a very good horse  
Uncle RIP  
    
the sands had once formed a soft curve  
over the top of the cowboys hard work  
but now there was nothing but    
the weathered marker  
showing time passed  
with brittled barn wood heartbreak  
and memory drifting to the east with it  
    
like the coiling sands  
and their fine mimic    
of the rattlesnake  
slithering to meal  
twirling off towards the Joshua  
seeking to pile against him  
for ease and comfort  
and some rest  
    
it was surely a very hot wind  
that had carried the cowboy on  
after such a loss  
of a very good horse  
we will remember him now  
called Uncle  
    
(i am sure he was a noble steed and even in his eve of passing quite handsome to the cowboy)  
    
and surely that wind carried his sorrowful melody to the Joshua  
for cowboys often sing very sad songs  
and the Joshua heard the loss  
in the cowboy song  
and most likely wept    
a fortunes worth of affinity  
in tears of an evergreens nurture  
and sheltered him a moment in kind  
    
the cowboy head off  
long  
long ago  
in search of a hopeful Eden  
in search of new companions  
to lift his weariness  
and place his boots  
    
but for the Joshua  
his surprising elevation  
and ability to watch  
and remember  
long after the timber    
fades to forget  
nobody would  
    
and the sad cowboy  
in the blink of an eye  
far from the sands    
now to the west  
and under his own stone  
and the worn down of it  
    
and i become the Joshua  
and feel the time of this  
into my depths    
though they may be shallow  
they are strong  
they know their fortune    
and are kind to what is buried near  
    
and what might walk away from it

I have felt more dead than I’ve ever been
Half alive and roses
Five rows and a casket
Cracked open slightly
By a jagged thing
Sloughing velvet
The color of my rouge

Underneath
I have watched miles of countless scenery
And the grey and scrubbed tracks of Men
Making their way
Down the highways that never got them there

Disapproval
Disappointment shoveled onto their laps
Like the burden of children
It’s all in a life.. ..

It is all in a life

When Golden Years
Are shed like tears
And tattooed blue ink to cheeks
Once pink with promise

Salty trails of permanence

Adhere and there..
Here and there,
But what’s in a life but death?
What’s in a death but a life un-lived .. ?

I ask
And raise the lid to look
Peek for the answers that might break my heart
A scattered skeleton ... to the floor
The bones that cradle my flesh inside
So that I might hide
From the discomfort of it

I might hide from the comfort of it..

My tongue caresses the inside of my jaw
To beg a gape and awe..
to urge a childlike response to the world
Not to encourage
A brutal and courageous faith..
but one that is innate and infallible

The seed that caused the first instrument to blow
And charcoaled the walks of the Neanderthal
(Or more appropriate name for that human)
But being all the same..
and became Man kind as his spiritual need met the need to survive
And it shown on his face like grace

My perception fades
And in the darkness
A sound  
Like the cry of the withering  
  
With careful place of soul to heap  
I carry my heart    
To what I fear may break it  
    
I envision....  
come hallowed grounds    
And the bodies that lie there  
in mass and lump  
fresh from hangman's noose  
    
Their penalty's might have been mine  
if I had had the nerve to reach them  
    
in my haze  
And a mighty aspiration called indifference    
My gaze had I diverted skillfully  
With enough success that i did not even recognise their cause  
    
I pray with soulless conjuring    
For their redemption    
And for my own  
Unwilling to own this duality  
    
For self and pardoning  
And only just..  ..  
    
I stitch a blindfold  
Of crushed red velvet    
And monogrammed on it a J  
In the prettiest blue  
    
The color of the sky    
Nowhere to be seen  
in all this midnight and black  
    
But I have loved this track  
it has covered me discreetly    
Like a clandestine lover    
I have run to meet it  
    
now this cry through the fog  
My awareness shocked to submission  
    
And my own body I have not touched  
in such a long...  
long time  
tremors....  
My knuckles streaked    
In reds through white and terrors grip  
    
My God relieve me  
And my soul what have I done?    
The cry...  
It is an echo  
It is my own and I feel it so deeply  
    
Like the scarecrow  
And the post he sits  
I feel I might slide right off of myself

Let me show you
Through the soft and gentle folds
Of fabric stitched with a fine silk threading
My raison d'etre

See there in the yellows of sun
And the pinks of this special moon
A new season
And reason to bloom

I have had days too long
And nights that fought the dawn to come
I have been so tired
From lonesome walks that I placed first foot in surely

But there are heavenly eyes that have brightened to see my arrival
And my eyes would shine to see yours

Of possessions
I need none but this
A loving glove for my hand that feels good in yours
To cover past fortunes told

But covered only a little while
until the comfort found in our grasp
Is as easy and familiar
As you once thought it used to be

This derelict mansion
My soul
And its worn fine embroidered
Green silk and
Once charming blinds
In tatters
Tatters I tell you

What say you
You and I
Hunt forgotten treasure
Here,
In long winding
Once bourgeoisie
Halls
Red carpeted halls
Of misdirection

Hunt treasure here
Perhaps pearls were once
Unstrung suddenly
As rough hand
Skipped its catch
And the beauty of pearls
Slipped and had scattered
Just rolled off and away from
Her smile

Just rolled away
And a tear
Like crystalline
Of little self
Was all there could be left
To shine him away

Derelict mansion
Of soul
Of little self
And forgotten treasure
Torments
Like howling caving walls
And floors sinking in
Like memories
Of torrential
Musty moisture
Grow into them
And show like dark faces
In screaming silence

Show like howling emblem
Mid seething anthem
To a shabby state

Torrent-bed

I seek him in a torrent-bed
I seek him in the divine waters of unconstitutional purpose
I have no doubt
My mind will ease there
And that my thoughts will trickle through
And down into
Between nothing and faith

Somewhere in between I am sure of it

My hand grips blasphemy like a crow
How cunning
This cry out from my reaches
From out of the very depths of me
It shudders up and begs
It wants to burst from me
And caw
And scream
And turn my brows to arches
My face angular with passion
My body braces from the intensity

I feel sick
My stomach has swallowed my heart
And she still beats
Each thump swirls my head
Each thump drives me to let her loose
And heave

My fingers have found a new curve
As if they have turned themselves around something sharp
And jagged
And liable to cut that curve away

Scar tissue like finger trails
Placed roughly at times
The self induced wounds weave
Round and pink like threads of a worn down quilt
and at times it does not cover my feet
My body shakes off the cold
My head eases into pillows of thought
Calm placed angel faced considerations
And arching white bones cradle my heart
Rocking its pump and burn
To lull my scream
And cause my hoods to flutter
Until they are down
And pose on my cheeks like Monarchs
Orange and black fragile illusions
That become my gatekeepers
Of sweet dreams
And into the night
A delicate sleep
If one could stand over
And count on their fingers
The fitful probabilities
They would not have enough
My tall keeper in his dark shell
would become worn down
By the burden
And collapse his frustration into the corner and its rocking chair
Unaware that its squeak and squeak
Is shooosh girl and temporary blessing
My mother had rocked me like this
The sound of it a lullaby
And warm breath on my soft head
Peace
But this night I am alone
And have only the culminations of my past to cover me
As the gatekeepers I imagine hover my cheeks
I am unafraid to go it this way
Even if my dreams plump the scars
My blanket would be fuller
Its thread count higher
With understanding
And richer with the color of my being

Where the boulevard nears the bridge
Liesel stands with arms akimbo
Defiant posture deflecting whistles like bullets
And low ball offerings like marbles
  
She heard:
Toss her a nickel watch her shake like it's a dollar
In a pig's eye  
she roared
And spat hard for emphasis
  
Call her a *****
She might be persuaded  
If you smooth your tongue with velvet
And dip your fedora to hide it's fork
  
Her belly rumbles
It's hunger for a snack points peekaboo
Toes towards Harry's good time diner
10 cent burgers draw an unscrupulous crowd
  
Her pious snubs  
Of men who might fill her purse  
Have done little for a definite need of sustenance  
Though the fine slant of uppity *****  
Now lifting her little chin
Seems to have really brought out her aristocratic features
  
Buck whoops and haws
As she makes her appearace
He is a huge fan of Liesel' s posterior
And cannot wait for her stride past
  
A thought hits:
With her rumbling challenging haughty composure  
Feeling on the verge of fainted dead away
She snips:
  
Buck I'll let you pat me where I jiggle
For a five bag of burgers  
And a side of beans
  
Buck grinned ear to ear
And picking yellow feathers out of his teeth replied:
  
Liesel darlin
For that *** I should only buy you three

You pace
Ubiquitous loitering  
Like beggars hands holding a sign
Invading my cool condition  
Like the denim  
I’m worn and wearing
A white cotton T shirt and sly smile  
  
I see  
  
Black boots In the center of my floor
Tossed carelessly  
Soft whispers that want to rub  
Pleading eyes that would lay me down
Lay me down  
Until ******* find a place to hook themselves
Eager finger
Or corner of the chair
  
I really do not care  
  
The getting there would be triage  
To one part desire
One part anticipation  
(I can hold it in my hand and feel the heartbeat of its urgency)  
One part lonely walking  
Circling to running  
And skinned knees
  
Your breath on my youth and delivers me
My eyelash flutters
And the warm wind on my bare shoulder curves my pout
  
See my shirt as she shakes loose of my breast
My rib expands to take you in
I imagine your eye tracing the curve of your intake  
And down to the crux  
Of pink and tender
Warm and pulsing
To sip and suckle what I’ve left you
For you
  
It will be there
  
When finger slip
The ridge of white cotton  
(Gasp)  
As you trespass  
And find yourself in my wilds
Marked places  
Behind my eyes with memories  
Of a man that hunted there before you
I pray he lets loose that dominion
  
I know that the thought of your pace in my world  
Has me begging to be set free
It is a solemn pass when sovereign ghosts refuse to let go
  
Again
  
My little eye spies your boots  
On my floor  
I welcome the dirt and debris
I have been living in such sterile conditions  
I could use a little *****
  
Boy

I had been in my head one morning
Feeling some kind of melancholy
Irregular to the sky
The summer sun
And the warmth and promise it so generously offered

The almighty intervenes in the oddest ways at times
For my weary gaze was caught by the unusual
And diverted me
From my self indulgent considerations

I pushed back my sunglasses
Careful to shade my curiosity
It can be a blurry line
when you are old watching the young
Between what is accepted as wanted
voyeuristic appreciation of a former season
And the unwanted perverse stroking of a tired past

While eavesdropping discretely
Into the conversation between an eclectic young man
And his significant other
A wild beauty
With blue Mohawk
And candied apple lip gloss

I heard him say
That the first night they made love
when he saw her shed her camo jacket
Her dress
Kick off her combat boots
And watched as they landed under his bed

He said that
he had prayed for the first time in a very long time
At that moment
He had prayed for their permanence
In his space

He said
He knew God again
As his eyes traced the gentle lines of her
And saw before him
A celestial soul
Who's body looked like it had been sculpted from the moon itself

The pretty girl wearing the blue Mohawk
Leaned into the young man's chest
She weeped softly
And he held her close
They stood quiet for a long while
rocking back n forth in the sweetest dance

Eventually I collected myself
My things
And excused myself unoticed
And walked away smiling
The loving scene still on my mind
Their faces and the peculiar way his eyes had shone
And prayed I would remember always
The earnest in them as he spoke of grace

Is my hair on fire?
It is the darkness
It is the cloud that hovers it
The dismal fog and fade
From destination
(II was once propelled by its heat)

Now a smoldering
Now a dissension in the ranks
This un-twist of plaited red
And amber
And just a glint
But fading gold

And just a glint

Enough to keep me wandering
Wondering

Bits and pieces
Shoes tossed across the room
My clothes piled in a corner
The smell of coffee scorching on the burner

Tomorrow I might rise and clean the mess
Tomorrow I might rise
Today I just go to bed

Vacation

Interacting with the locals
Carrying baskets  
Bulging fresh fruit  
And palm tree smacked grin
  
The sun kissed
And grabbed me by the skin  
She danced the light
And smattered it  
Across my wrinkled  
Up nose  
  
Playful  
Kool aid carefreed  
Steel drummed  
Rolling round plinking and  
Plopped down to beach it
While curling toes felt up the sand  
  
I just lay
And soaked up the Rastafarian  
Three man band  
And the **** of spliff  
And the **** of spliff
Tobacco scent  
Wrought ****** havoc  
To rims eeeeking red  
My blink ate dust
  
Soon
Like monsoon season  
And it’s worst  
Fuzzy shores  
A sky too electric blue  
To be right  
The edges of a postcard  
Eroded by salty water  
Takes the better part of a memory  
  
Come November
I stood scanning channels  
On a ****** radio  
To try and catch a glimpse  
Maybe Marley  
Or at the very least  
Calypso?  
At this point  
I’d Belefonte  
The **** outta this joint
  
It turned out
You can go back home again